


drenched in vanilla twilight

by crookedloves



Category: Friends, Friends (TV)
Genre: Based on a song, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:46:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedloves/pseuds/crookedloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The silence isn’t so bad, ‘till I look at my hands and feel sad, ‘cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly.</em><br/>Or: Monica’s gone, and Chandler doesn’t quite know how to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drenched in vanilla twilight

_The stars lean down to kiss you_  
_And I lie awake and miss you_  
_Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere_  
_'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly_  
_But I'll miss your arms around me_  
_I'd send a postcard to you, dear  
_ _'Cause I wish you were here_

The night is starry.

Chandler sits beside the newly covered grave, the one that solidly puts in place the final, physical barrier between him and his wife. It doesn’t seem quite so real yet, that she’s gone, because he can still remember the exact blue of her eyes and the way she always seems – no, seemed – to smell like potpourri. The wind whips around him, wrapping him in an icy embrace. The others will have gone to Central Perk, taking Erica and Jack with them, tears frozen solidly on their face as they sit down on their orange couch for the first time knowing full well she was never going to burst through those doors again.

The sky stares at Chandler, and he stares back. He remembers the same cold night about a billion years ago when he had stood with her and looked up at the stars, maybe the exact same ones.

————————

_“Ross, when’s this comet thing start?”_

_Her voice cut through the chilly air as she tapped her foot impatiently. They’d been up there for hours, Ross explaining the whole time how “extraordinary” the comet was. Chandler didn’t see what was so great. Granted, he didn’t see **anything** , period._

_If time flies while you’re having fun, it was moving at a glacial speed now. It was cold, and his nipples were starting to cut through his shirt._

_She was standing next to him, her arms wrapped around him like he was the only thing keeping her warm. He shivered, and she felt it. Pulling away slightly, she asked, “Sweetie, do you want my jacket?”_

_“That pink… marshmallow… monstrosity?”_

_“Honey, come on. You’re getting all shaky. Joey could knock you over with one push.”_

_“I don’t want it. I’m f-ah-ah—ine.” he quivered at the newest, coldest gust of wind._

_“Come on, Chandler! You’ll get hypothermia!”_

_“I… don’t think so.”_

_“Do it for me?” she asked, looking at him with a slight smile on her face, knowing he would do anything for her._

_He relented. “Fine… but I’m only doing this for you.”_

_“Sure you are, sweetie.”_

_—————————_

He remembers how her eyes had reflected all the light from the stars, and how the stars had seemed to love her almost as much as he did. He remembers, and at the same time he wants to forget. Because it has just hit him.

This is real.

Her eyes aren’t going to shine for him again. She’s never going to hug him from behind, or kiss him when he’s breaking down, or hold him in her arms like she did that night, _ever again_.

He wants to stay. He wants to let the cold freeze him over so he’ll be sat here, watching over her like he’s done so many times before, and no one would be able to do anything about it. He doesn’t want to leave her, even though she’s left him.

Monica had once wondered if he’d be able to shed a tear for his dead wife. The answer’s finally falling fast from his eyes, soaking his barely-groomed face and tux and tie, almost as though they know all he wants was to drown in his sadness, as though they know he can’t face the thought of coming home to an empty bed, already losing its warmth.

But no — he has Erica and Jack. They’ve lost their mother, and they’re going to need their father now more than ever.

Knowing she would once have berated him for not coming home to take care of the kids, he gets up. His pants are stained with grass, his face stained with tears.

“I love you, Mon.”

He walks away from her, from the only woman he’d ever want to love buried six feet under, from the grave being loved by stars.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on Owl City's Vanilla Twilight, because I cried when I heard it. Then I cried when I wrote this. And I'm going to cry as I write the next chapters. As you do.


End file.
